And be loved in return
by MiladyBellatrixBlack
Summary: The woman I loved. Is. Dead. DM/HG. Is Draco losing his mind? Or is he finally regaining his sanity?
1. Chapter 1

I do not own ANY of these characters. I do not own Harry Potter nor am I affiliated with J.K. Rowling in ANY way. Nor do I own _Nature Boy by Nat King Cole _or the words from _Moulin Rouge. _This story is for mature audiences and contains some elements of rape. If you have a problem with this, please do not continue with this story. I do not condone rape in any form.

The woman he loved. Is. Dead.

_There was a boy. A very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye but very wise was he. And then one day, a magic day, he passed my way and while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me, "the greatest thing, you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." Nat King Cole._

She struggled. He watched, dumbstruck, as she struggled. Oh dear God. He shouldn't care. She was filthy. A dirty, despicable, mudblood. But she was writhing on the floor, screaming, and her shrill shrieks of agony resounding miserably in his ears.

"CRUCIO! CRUCIO!" His Aunt Bellatrix flicked her wand again and again, her face twisted in a disturbing mixture off anger and what seemed like lust. "Stupid girl."

She stopped the spells, walked over to the crumpled for and kicked out hard with her pointed boots. Blow after blow, kick after kick, and the whimpering sounds were too much for him to bear. Draco Malfoy turned his face away, revulsion threatening to make him be sick on the floor. Dirty despicable mudblood. But this was different and how he wasn't sure. Was it because he knew her? Because he knew her name? Surely not. But then why? Why was he feeling so revolted? Granger.

"Enough Bellatrix! We need more answers and she won't provide them dead." Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, sounded bored as he crossed the room to take Bellatrix by the arm.

She bared her teeth and fought against his strong grip, then tore her arm from his grasp and flounced away, calling, "WORMTAIL! Where is that dratted….Wormtail!"

"He is attending to the others," Lucius drawled, "Draco! Take the mudblood to the spare cell downstairs. The small one on the other side of the house. I don't want her near the others."

Draco gritted his teeth, "Yes, Father." He strode over to the small broken body, "Get up." There was no response. "Get up, Granger." Still nothing. "Good Lord." Draco rolled his eyes, bent and picked her up, flinging her over this shoulder. She was skin and bones. He could feel her ribs shift as he moved…broken.

"Secure her there and come back up, you can interrogate her later," his mother spoke softly from the shadows. Draco turned and made his way out of the room, down the hall, across the foyer, down another hall and finally to the closet where the hidden stairs to the cellar were. The tugged open the door and pushed lightly on the lack panel which swung open noiselessly. Shifting Granger slightly, he made his way into the passage and shut the panel door. Several torches alit as he swiftly traversed the stairs, opening the wooden door at the bottom. "Alohamora," The door swung open at his wands request and he moved inside. There in the corner of the room was a torture table. He slid Granger from his shoulder and plopped her down lightly on the table. Her bruised and lacerated face was covered in blood, stemming from a gash on her forehead. Her wrist looked broken as did several ribs. Draco brushed a few strands of curly hair off her cheek and reached for a manacle.

"Ple…"

He jumped back, startled, to find her eyes open with tears streaming down and mixing with the blood. Oh Lord, she was looking at him, searching his eyes with her own.

"Please…" Her voice was soft and cracked, barely audible through the damaged lips.

"Don't talk to me, Mudblood." Draco said brusquely grasping her wrist lightly and forcing it into the metal bracelet of the manacle. It pulled her shoulders up slightly, causing her to flinch and cry out in pain. He could feel his eyebrows knitting in confusion and frustration.

Why? Damnnit, why? It's not like they were pals, bosom chums, anything more than mortal enemies. But despite everything he had ever done or said there had always been a deeply hidden and much resented respect for this girl. He was surrounded day in and day out by morons. At school he often longed for stimulation conversation. Draco would rejoice in anything more than one syllable answers and unintelligible grunting. He doubted whether or not Granger ever received thought-provoking conversation of a stimulating nature herself. Hanging out with that Potter and the Weasel could hardly be that conversationally motivating.

"Malfoy, please…" her faint choking words brought him out of his brooding.

He snapped his eyes down, "I thought I said to shut up." Draco watched as her mouth opened and a tiny bubble of crimson blood slowly formed with her labored breathing. His breath caught in his throat, "Oh, Hell." That couldn't be good.

"Please…" The bubble popped and a trickle of blood ran across her cheek, "…kill me."

"N….NO!" Draco stepped back, aghast, what the hell was she asking of him? Her head lolled on the table as her eyes rolled back in her head. "Granger? GRANGER? What in bloody hell?" He demanded, but she had fainted from the pain. Kill? Good Lord, he couldn't kill her. She was a student. She was like him. No. No, she was dirty and he should kill her. He couldn't. He fingered the wand in his belt, sliding it gently between his thumb and first finger.

The door suddenly banged open and Narcissa, Draco's mother glided in with a small bowl of water and a house elf called Grafl clutching a small rag. "Clean it," she muttered to the elf, setting the bowl down by Granger's head and pointing to the face. Grafl set to work dabbing the blood from Granger's face and arms.

"Mother?" Draco peered into his mother's face, noting with slowly simmering rage, the beginning of a bruise blossoming under her left eye.

"Just because we harbor a mudblood does not constitute blatant cruelty. Besides, the more blood loss inflicted now, reduces the chance of her continued interrogation. Your father does not agree, but I have settled this matter." Narcissa used her want to prod spots on Granger's face and arms, jabbing perhaps just a bit harder than necessary. "There. Her bones should be mostly on the mend. I will ask you to supervise Grafl. Supper will be ready when you come back upstairs. Draco nodded with a quick jerk of his head and turned to monitor the house elf as she provided her ministrations.

"Young Master? Why look so sad, sir?" the house elf had finished wiping off the worst of the blood and was grazing the towel gently across the work "Mudblood" now branded on the left forearm.

"It's nothing, Grafl. Continue with your work." Draco bit his lip, thinking, and crossed to leave the room.

"Don't worry, Master Draco. She will still be lovely after Grafl is done."

Draco spun around and advanced, pulling his wand and pointing it at Grafl, "What did you say to me?" His voice was low and threatening.

"Nothing sir, nothing. Grafl meant no disrespect, sir. Grafl was only seeing through your eyes, sir. Never again , sir. Sorry, sir."Grafl bowed, terrified, grabbed the bowl of blood tinged water and with a faint pop, disapperated.

"Seeing? Seeing through my eyes? What?" Draco shook his head, confused, and thundered through the door, pausing to throw a contemptuous look at where the elf once stood. "Knows nothing. Stupid Elf."


	2. Chapter 2

Later, during dinner, Draco heard anguished howls of rage emanating from down in the basement. Looking up from his untouched soup, Draco noticed Fenrir Greyback approaching, licking blood off his fingers and chuckling in that wolfish manner he had.

"She tastes lovely….promise me that I can have a turn when you are done with her." Fenrir chuckled darkly, catching a drop from his fingernail on his tongue.

Bellatrix sighed moodily and rolled her eyes in disgust, "That is revolting. Did you tell them?"

Fenrir nodded and grinned maliciously, the blood still clinging to his teeth. "First I went and smeared her blood on my face, you know, more convincing. Then I told Potter and the redhead I torn her limb from limb, I did. Asked if they wanted a taste. Red tried to grab me through the bars, but I says to them, 'Do that and I bring the rest down here for you to see.' I say. 'I think there may be an eye and maybe part of a toe if you're hungry.' And they started in with the screaming. You can still hear them."

"Very good! Clever even. Greyback, I may have misjudged you. Perhaps you are not the brainless dog I have been led to believe. You did manage to capture them, a feat I never thought possible from your little "band". I feel I must commend you." Bellatrix went back to her soup.

Fenrir bowed out, muttering about the rest of the pool of blood and having a quick nip. Feeling no need to drag the evening on any further, Draco set his spoon down on the table and nodded curtly to the assembled family, "I'll be going to bed now. Excuse me."

"Draco? Darling?" Narcissa lowered the wine glass she was about to sip from, "You haven't even tasted your soup and we still have the main course waiting. Grafl also fixed your favorite dessert. Are you feeling alright? "

He stood, "Yes, Mother. It's been a tiring day and, frankly, I've lost my appetite."

"Would you like something sent up to your room? Cake? Something to drink? I will send Grafl up after she finishes taking food to the girl."

"Whatever you wish, Mother. Father. Aunt Bella." He inclined his head slightly at each name.

"Nighty night, Dwaco. Mwah mwah." Bellatrix popped two air kisses at Draco's general direction, refusing to look at him and guzzled the rest of the wine in her goblet. She snapped her fingers quickly and Grafl popped up near her chair to refill her glass. "Pathetic little creature. Though, it's much better than the last one you had Cissy, what was its name? Drubby? Doffly? I can't remember. Disgusting little thing."

Draco fought the urge to spit at his Aunt. He had to get away now, before he physically became ill from the smug look on her face. He walked swiftly from the dining hall. The delight she seemed to take in each and every pained scream she made spew forth from the lips of each of her victims sickened him more and more with each passing day. He was tired, suddenly very tired of all of this. And his thoughts kept flickering back to Granger, the blood flowing from her pale mouth as she begged him for death. He would go tonight. Question her now. Get the information they wanted and then do it. He couldn't stand to see her suffer. It was too much. The pain in her eyes, her beautiful sorrowful….wait…no! Draco thrust the door of his room open and slammed it behind him. What in the hell?

"Grafl was only seeing through your eyes, sir," the squeaky shrill voice of the tiny elf reverberated in his ears, echoing louder and louder each time he thought about it. He could think back to each and every day for the past few years in the Great Hall, somehow, someway, and mostly without even realizing it, he caught himself staring at her and her shiny bushy chestnut hair. Even if it was only for a few seconds. He would often mentally curse and berate himself for even letting his eyes stray in her general direction. But ever so often, he allowed himself the luxury of a lingered gaze on her face, on the swell of her hips, on the completeness of her.

"Damn!" Draco punched the wall. He was going out of his damn mind, this was too much. Anger. Anger over everything, his family, his situation, his thoughts, washed through his blood and he felt his face grow hot. He would wait until midnight. Mother and Father took relatively strong sleeping potions right after dinner, a ritual every night for the past two years. Aunt Bellatrix left every evening to return to her own manor. None of the beds were to her liking at her sister's abode.

He lay down on his bed and rubbed his face with his hands, "Through my eyes? Damnnit!" He thought back to school, first year, her bushy head poking into the train compartments looking for that stupid toad of Longbottom's.

Second year, the slightly confused look on her face when he called her a mudblood for the first time. He didn't really know how wrong it was until years later….it was how he grew up. That's how all the adults around him spoke of mixed children, they were filthy, disgusting, and not worth acknowledgement.

Third year, the rage in her face as her fist flew towards his nose. That had really stung; she had a hell of a right hook.

Fourth year, her, arm in arm with Krum, walking, no floating down the stairs, face lit up brilliantly like the moon. Pansy Parkinson had crushed his arm when Hermione passed. He didn't even realize he had been staring so intently at her, but she just looked so different. That periwinkle dress hugging every soft curve so gently and her bright white smile, devoid of those abnormally large incisors, just knowing she was there with Krum made him feel a light jealousy he couldn't fathom. It made him angry and more disdainful.

Fifth year, seeing her face glare at him as she was interrogated in Umbrage's office. The look of shear hatred glazing her eyes, her chin quivering with repressed rage, was terrifying.

Sixth year, watching her run down the hallway towards Potter and…Weasel.

She loved him. Draco could see it in her eyes when he watched them, her. This thought made him seethe, clenching his jaws together. That stupid, stupid Weasel. He didn't even realize how much Granger adored him, couldn't keep her eyes off him. Draco checked himself, why was this thought bothering him? It's not like he wanted…did he? No. No, impossible. He'd spent seven years trying to hate her. Trying? GOD! He felt like his head was trying to tear itself apart. She's dirty. She's beautiful. She's a mudblood. She's actually intelligent, so rare in your average teenage witch. She's NOT a witch, she's mixed blood. She's…everything.

Draco closed his eyes, defeated. He couldn't deny to himself what he's been trying to for years. He had watched her. Tormented her. Sought vengeance for some imagined wrongdoing because he saw in her everything he wanted, everything he couldn't have, and the thought of having to bear this knowledge crushed him. This wasn't fair. She mustn't be allowed to pervade his thoughts. Sleep. He needed a bit of sleep to clear his mind and prepare for the interrogation. He had to get in, demand the information, and get out. It would be quick and simple and then, what then? Would he kill her? Did he have the courage to? Did he have the courage not to? Just a bit of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Again, I do not own any of these characters nor the genius that is J. K. Rowling. This chapter does contain the fresh scent of lemony goodness, so if that is not what you want to read, please hit your back button. Yes, I am aware of their ages, however, the characters are considered adults in the "wizarding world" therefore, I think I am justified. Any and all comments are appreciated but if you do not like the story, just don't read it. I just write it, I can't make you like it. That being said, if you so choose…enjoy. (FYI-I have mentioned that in later chapters there will be rape involved, yet again, I do not condone this, however, this is how I have written it, if you don't approve, please don't read. Thank you again.)

Draco opened his eyes abruptly, his hand clutching his heart, which was beating as though there were live fairies in his chest.

"Draco…" There was a voice…he was in the room of requirement. "Draco…"

"Who the hell?" A soft lilting giggle sang in his ears.

"Open it, Draco." His eyes flicked to the vanishing cabinet. A gentle ticking noise was coming from inside, like the flick of fingernails on a desk. Draco reached out a white hand toward the knob and hesitated. He was afraid, and he didn't know if he had the strength to see what was hidden in the dark depths of the cabinet. And then a voice whispered, "Please…" It was her.

He rushed to open the door and a small tanned hand appeared, palm up, fingers outstretched, as if to say, "Come. Follow. Stay with me." Draco moved closer, placing his hand in hers. There was a pull and a sensation of nauseous movement that made him shut his eyes. He kept them closed for a minute, even after the pulling stopped.

"Look at me." His lids fluttered open to reveal her laying on his bed, lounging on green silk sheets, her eyes languid as she stared directly into his very soul. She was wearing his school shirt, which was slightly big on her, his Slytherin tie resting lightly down her breasts. Draco felt his jaw drop as she knelt up and rested back on her heels, revealing her blue striped panties. Granger looked up and bit down on her bottom lip.

"What are you doing here?"

"What's wrong Draco? Is this not the image you see when you close your eyes in the dorms? Is this not what you are seeing while your eyes stare at me from across the Great Hall? When you allow Parkinson to fall to her knees and pleasure you…is my face not the one you dwell on? Dream of? Simply tell me, if you can, that I'm lying, and I'll leave. Go on. Say it." Her ring finger found its way into her mouth and she bit down on the pad as she waited.

Draco's face bent and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he responded shamefully, "I can't."

"I know," was her soft reply.

"Granger, you can't be here." It was very nearly a question. He put a hand to his forehead willing himself to think straight and took a few steps closer to the bed thinking how to force her to understand how wrong this was.

"I think we are well past formalities, Draco. You tell me to leave, that's the only way I can." Her fingers reached up and her nails skimmed the surface of his neck, leaving his skin tingling. "But I don't think you want to." She grabbed his collar and pulled Draco's face to hers, her lips just nearly touching his.

"I, I'm dreaming."

"Smart boy," her lips come to meet his in a searing kiss, which brought a warmth that spread down to his groin.

"Hermione….I can't," he murmured against her mouth, wanting nothing more than to part her lips with his tongue and die in the moment.

"Then don't. I'm not making you. But, I'm not stopping you either."

With that he plunged his tongue into her mouth and felt, with wicked desire, like he had never felt while kissing anyone before. She tasted so sweet, like some wild concoction of all his favorite things. His left hand flew to her hair while his right dropped to her hip to pull her to her feet, and the sounds coming from somewhere in her soul drove him mad. Her soft kitten sighs combined with sharp lupine growls threw him beyond all sense or reason.

Their tongues battled for domination, over and under, hard and fast, and then slow and gentle. When she broke away he thought he would cry, but when she began kissing the soft hollow of his throat, Draco was hard pressed to remember his own name. His hand fell from its tangle in her hair to cup her breast, stroking his thumb lightly across her hard little nipple through his shirt. She moaned, pulling his collar aside to nip at that sensitive area where his neck became shoulder. Hermione's fingers moved at his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and drawing her arms around his waist. Sharp little nails lightly scratched his stomach and back as her mouth found his own nipple and her soft tongue traced tiny little circles around it. He shuddered as she sucked lightly, drawing his it into her mouth, her hot breath on his chest.

This was insane, but he no more wanted it to stop than he would want his arm chopped off. This was bliss; this was what you were supposed to feel. Not hatred and anger not anguish. One hand on her shapely breast, one in her lovely hair, the scent of sandalwood flowing through his nostrils, the quick cold intake of air into his lungs as he gasped in pleasure. He could fall into death with her in his arms right now and never feel a regret. And then her hand grasped his swelling erection, squeezing once, twice.

Draco fell to his knees, white lights popping behind the lids he scrunched shut, "STOP, please! No more! I don't…I don't deserve…I can't." Draco pressed his face to her thighs, fingers tightening around her shapely calves. "I can't."

Hermione's tongue clicked softly, "Tsk, tsk, that's a shame." Her thighs moved away and his hands fell to the floor, supporting his still quaking body. When he had the courage to raise his head, Draco saw her leg bouncing lightly off the edge of his snake carved bed frame. Slowly, Draco knelt up and watched as Hermione lazily unbuttoned the shirt, smoothing her hands down her naked breasts, her taut stomach. She pushed down on the bed with her bent leg to arch her back and the delicate eyelashes on her face fluttered as she opened her eyes. The rose pink lips sunk into a pout, "I've told you, I won't make you."

Draco used the bed frame to propel himself up and onto the bed, landing on his knees. The smile that spread across her face was impish and lustful, "That's what I thought."

She grabbed his neck and pulled his face to hers. Draco shed his shirt trying not to stop kissing her till he ran out of breath. When he finally did, he leaned back to look at her, "What do you want from me?"

A soft chuckling sound escaped her lips as she rolled her eyes, "I should think that was obvious." Hermione's hands worked at this belt and pants zipper, nimbly ridding him of the last of his clothes. "Do you want me?" Chilly fingers tugged at the waistband of his boxer shorts. Warm amber pools of golden brown stared up into grey winter frost, and Draco licked his lips. "Tell me, Draco." Her hand grazed down his stomach, yanking the boxers down his thighs as the other pushed her torso up off the bed.

"Hermione. God, I've wanted you for so long." Her fingers found his white blonde pubic hair and as she tangled them in it, she pulled gently, causing him to gasp, "So fucking long! I've dreamed you." She smiled bent slowly to take him in her mouth. He saw nothing but her hair, but he felt he mind-blowing warmth and sweet wetness of her tongue.

"GREAT…MER…MERLINS….SSS….B….EARD!"

He felt her chuckle, the effect causing a gentle hum in the back of her throat sending intense vibrations through his dick. "Lord! Mione, Stop! STOP!" His panting caused her to pull away, a sucking pop preceding a confused look. "I had to stop you," Blushing vibrantly, Draco swallowed and looked away embarrassed, "I was going to cum."

Blowing up on her bangs, Hermione sighed, "That was kind of the idea."

"But if I cum in your gorgeous mouth….how can I fuck you until you scream my name?"

Hermione's eyes widened, "OH! Right! Huh? Well played." She bit her lips to hold back a grin. He finally made her blush, the pink spreading prettily to her cheeks and down her breasts. He kicked his boxers to the floor.

"Come here!" Draco wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled to drop her on her back. "These need to go." Hooking his fingers in her panties, he pulled, popping the thin strings that held them on the left. Then, bending, he used his sharp teeth to rip the right side. Draco pulled them from underneath her, feeling the front soaked with her wetness. Gently, he slid a finger into her, finding Hermione drenched and ready for him.

Leaning up, she made to pull off his school shirt and tie. "No." A hand shot out to stop her, "Leave it on." The other hand he used to stroke her clit, slipping yet another finger inside. Feeling rather like a voyeur, Draco grinned as he watched her writhe. His dick was so hard it throbbed painfully. Draco worked her gently with his fingers for a minute more, and then pulled his hand away, pausing to flick her nub lightly with his thumb. He delighted to hear Hermione's moan of disappointment as she propped up on her elbow. Brown eyes glowed begging for more, but Hermione flushed, watching him suck his fingers clean of her. Draco smiled and pulled her up, sitting back onto his heels. He held her suspended over his penis, teasing her with the tip, "Beg me."

Hermione tangled her fingers in his hair and brought her lips to his ear, whispering, "Please…"

Draco brought Hermione down and impaled her on his 9 and ½ inches, hearing her hiss. He grinned noticing her knees didn't even reach the mattress, she was so tiny. They moved together, pent up feelings finally finding a constructive outlet. He bucked his hips, finding a pleasurable rhythm and heard the tiny intakes of breath she made, supplemented by whisper soft, "ooh's." The sounds spurred his need to make her move her hips hard, he dug his fingers into her bottom and moved her himself.

His breath came harsh and fast as he buried his face between her breasts, "I am going to cum. And I need you to cum with me!"

She exhaled, "Draco!" wrapping her arms around his head. Licking his fingers, he dropped them to her clit and rubbed in tiny quick circles, varying the pressure till he felt her insides tremble around him. Sharp fingernails scraped his scalp, "YES!" As she came, her inner walls clenched, causing his release. Draco pumped a few final thrusts, clutching himself to Hermione's chest as though the thing he never knew he was missing had returned to him.

"I have never felt like that," he whispered, drawing breath, "Is that what making love feels like, Hermione? Hermione?" Something suddenly seemed very wrong. Her body tensed in his grasp and Draco was struck with a fear to look up. A sudden wetness on his arm drew his eye. Blood? Lifting his head, his grey eyes moved up her breasts, the blood on his tie and her neck, lips streaming ruby, tears glistening in her emotionless eyes. Hermione's pale lips quivered, the drips running down her chin and falling on his shirt. Her bruised and battered body so like the crumbled state his aunt left her in.

"Please…kill me."

She was begging for death.

He couldn't breathe.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I've said it before and I'll say it again I Do not own harry potter or any of its affiliates although if I did, I would be very happy and rich right now.

*This chapter contains rape. Please be advised before reading. If you have any problem with this, please do not continue with this chapter. You are forewarned. I do not condone the act of rape on any individual. This is only fiction. Thank you!

Springing from his bed, Draco could still smell the sandalwood scent of Granger in his head. He tasted her tongue, her skin with his mind, remembering the dream so vividly. They had made love in his bed, he had tasted the sweet juice between her legs, and he made her beg for the feel of him inside her. Before he realized what he was doing, Draco found his fingers in his mouth, searching for her with his tongue and he ached to see her face. He could have sworn it had just actually happened…that she was still sitting on his bed, waiting for him to crawl under the covers beside her. Even his most hormone riddled masturbation sessions had never been that resplendent and realistic. Or terrifying. For Hermione had never asked him to kill her after a passion filled fantasy either. This was ludicrous. He had to speak to her now. Well, soon. He couldn't approach her with a throbbing erection.

Draco took some time to change out of his pajamas and into a pair of slacks and a shirt. He needed to calm down and think. What was he going to say to her? What _was_ there to say…ask? He dabbed cool water on his face from the pitcher on the bedside table and eased himself back onto his mattress, covering his burning face with his hands. Draco wanted to go back to the past and just pretend nothing had ever happened. He wanted to get away from the manor, his parents and everything…especially The Dark Lord. Blurry eyes dropped to the dark burned mark on his left wrist and his heart hurt. What had ever possessed his father to insist on a future like this for his own son? Parents were meant to love and protect their offspring. Not turn them into suffering, miserable servants of an insane murdering dictator. Draco had once craved power, but now all he wanted was normalcy and the end of this demented war.

Around midnight he slipped out his door and crept down the hallway, listening intently. No noises. Nothing. Moving slowly as not to cause the floorboards to creak, Draco made his way to the hidden passage and down to the cellar. She was still lying, cuffed to the table, unconscious. There was a bowl of cold, uneaten soup sitting on the floor nearby. Grafl had been in to feed her but had obviously not been able to wake her.

"Granger, wake up. We need to speak."

There was no reaction. The torn and bloodied sweater had crept up during her confinement, exposing a few inches of stomach. The bruises inflicted by his aunt had already begun to deepen and turn a sick purple-black.

"Granger. Wake. UP." Draco demanded, approaching the table. He hated how vulnerable she looked and he hated himself for caring.

"Damnnit, I said WAKE UP!" His had flashed out and before realizing what had happened, Draco slapped her hard across the face. Anger was welling up inside him again. He was furious with her for being stupid enough to be caught. He was even angrier at Potter and Weasley for taking her along and allowing her to be a part of this. Draco knew they were absolutely worthless without Hermione. She was the brains in the operation, and they hadn't even been smart enough to make her protection a priority. It was a wonder they had gotten as far as they had without being caught before now. Draco's fist punched the wood table beside her head. This was maddening. Part of him wanted to pick her up, kiss her awake, and smuggle her out of the manor. The other part of him just wanted her to be gone.

"I hate you." Draco whispered whether to her or himself he wasn't sure. Draco took a deep breath and smelt…sandalwood. The sweet, earthy, salty mellow scent of her hair and skin took his breath away. It was so distinctive. Nothing had ever made him feel so happy and confused at the same time. Draco's head moved of its own accord, dropping to cover Hermione's lips with his, "I hate you so much."

He smashed his lips down harder, sucking her bottom one between his and delighting in the soft texture of it. One hand wound fingers through her long, disheveled hair while the other fumbled with the button and zip of her trousers. Breathless and gasping for air, Draco pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. Unadulterated lust pounded through him, coursing through his veins, blinded him, as he blankly stared at nothing, seeing the image of her face as she came on top of him, crying out his name.

"Why do I need you so badly? I can't think. Stop me from doing something stupid. Stop me, Hermione."

When no words were spoken, Draco's hands moved and drew her pants down her shapely hips and thighs. The cloth underneath had a distinct blue striped pattern.

"Lord, help me!"

Draco unfastened his own pants and they fell around his ankles. Moving up and onto the table, he could feel his erection growing as he shut his eyes, tightly, imagining her laying on his bed and how her breasts felt in his hands. "Great Merlin, I need you. Now."

Fingers hauled her knickers aside and Draco positioned himself over her, kneeling. His other arm snaked under her lower back and with a sharp thrust, he entered her. She was so tight and warm, "Is this what making love feels like, Hermione?" His dream words reverberated in his ears. "Is this what making love feels like?" With a sigh he buried himself deeply in her, feeling a slight resistance break. Draco moved, his entire body aching with need. His hips jerked hard and he felt a warm build-up in his stomach. The only thing that mattered was this second, this moment in time with her, and feelings he had never thought he could muster surging through his body. He lowered his lips back onto hers and pumped his groin faster, his hips jerking hard for a minute or two until he felt his seed spill out into her. Harsh, rapid breathing overtook him and he blinked, pulling away from her lips.

What? What had he done? He looked away and slid his arm out from under her. He was so ashamed…what possessed him to this? Looking down, Draco noticed tears seeping from under soft black eyelashes and saw her hands flex in the manacles. Lifting himself back onto his heels Draco pulled out of Hermione. His hand flew to his mouth, glimpsing in stark reality what had just happened. Blood glistened on her thighs, and his dick was covered in bright scarlet.

No.

A wave of fury and revulsion at himself exploded in his head. He hadn't known. If he had, he would never, couldn't have. He hadn't known! Surely she and Weasley…they had feelings for each other…isn't that what…NO! She was too beautiful and smart and funny…they must have.

"Seeing though your eyes, sir."

"Oh, Gods!….NO!" The urge to be sick rose in his throat and he crawled off the table, glancing away, unable to look at her face. Kneeling on the ground with his face smashed in his forearms, Draco clutched at his hair. He had destroyed her. Taken from her the only thing that was hers and hers alone, to keep…to bestow. This was not a fantasy concocted in his hormone addled teenage mind. It was a terrible and cruel thing he had done. Worse than even the killing curse. The thought burned in his brain, he raped Hermione Granger. He had taken her innocence.

Pointing his wand at himself, Draco whispered, "Scourgify," and hastily returned his pants to proper position, buttoning them with shaking fingers. Hearing a muffled whimper, Draco stood and gazed at Hermione, finding her mouth trembling, tears flowing down her face. He would never forgive himself for the terrified and broken look in her eyes as she stared at him. He felt moisture on his own face and realized, for the first time in years, he was actually weeping for someone. Someone to whom he caused ultimate pain. Draco brought his wand up and pointed it at Hermione's forehead. For a second, the terror she felt was nearly tangible and Draco swore he could taste it in the air. She glared at him for a moment and then looked away.

"Do it. You've already taken what you wanted." Hermione's voice was tight with unshed tears and her cracked, pained words went right through him making him shudder with remorse, "My life is meaningless now. Just kill me and let it be over."

His heart wrenched but he opened his mouth, wand shaking, and muttered, "Obliviate," watching as her eyes went out of focus. The eyelashes fluttered as she closed her lids and Draco hastened to pull her clothing back to its rightful place. Placing his hand on her cheek, his thumb traced the outline of her bottom lip. He felt numb and cold. He felt like a monster. Bending to reach her ear, Draco whispered, "Mione, I am so sorry, can you forgive me for this? I am so sorry. So sorry. Please," Salty drops fell from his cheeks onto hers, "I never meant to hurt you...I didn't know. Please." He dropped a light, soft kiss on the corner of her mouth and as he pulled away, it broke his heart to see a tiny smile perk on her lips only to fade an instant later


	5. Chapter 5

_To enforce again, I wish I could call Harry Potter and the characters thereof mine, but I am not fortunate enough to do so as I am not J.K. Rowling (how I wish I was!). I hope that you are enjoying the rantings of my mind as I am enjoying penning them for you. I am sorry for the long wait, but I will hope you find this chapter to your liking. If you would like to review, I would be much appreciative. _

Later that morning, alone in the confines of his room, Draco tried not to let himself succumb to sleep. He didn't want to dream anymore tonight. Despite his best efforts, wave after wave of tired achiness crept through his body and all he longed for was to close his eyes and forget. Just as the wariness became too powerful to stave off any longer, Draco heard confused yelling echoing through the manor. It sounded like Wormtail and his father, a vivid screaming match back and forth, resounding in the tall ceilinged hallways. He pulled his robes over his wrinkled, unshed clothes and went to see what the issue was.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy! I'm sorry!"

"YOU were on watch! YOU were supposed to keep an eye on them. YOU….IMBECILE! Do you even realize what you have done? The Dark Lord will have our heads for this! You BLITHERING INCOMPETENT! You let Potter escape! You let them ALL escape!" The plump, crouched figure that was Wormtail shook, cowering on the ground at Lucius Malfoy's feet. Lucius was using his cane to smack Wormtail repeatedly across the back, a mix of terror and sheer unadulterated rage emanating from his shaking voice. His grey eyes flashed silver and his mouth twisted in a morbid grimace.

Cringing, Wormtail managed to squeak, "But sir, we still have the mudblood girl! We still have something for the Dark Lord. She will give us much useful information! And if they think she is still alive, they will come for her!"

"Stupid, stupid man! Potter believes her dead. He will not come for her corpse. What good will his girlfriend's corpse be to him?" Lucius spit his words like a hissing snake and began to pace.

"She wasn't Potter's girlfriend."

Lucius spun to face his son, "What nonsense are you on about?"

"Granger," Draco cleared his throat, "Granger was not Potter's girlfriend."

"You think I care about the romantic notions of a teenage wizard, Draco?" Lucius exploded in anger, "The Potter boy will not come back for her lifeless body, lover or no! The Dark Lord will punish us all severely for this infraction. THAT, Draco, is what I care about. You, your mother, and I are as good as DEAD!"

Draco's father began to pace faster and faster about the room, staring at the floor. Slowly he looked up at Wormtail through squinted eyes, "Though, I suppose you are right. If that girl is as close to Potter as you have told me, Draco, she may save our skins yet. Perhaps the Dark Lord could use her to find the secret hideouts the Order of the Phoenix have been holed up in. She has been on the run with Potter for a few months now; she may be able to let us in on where they have been. Or at the very least, perhaps her dismembered body could provoke the needed fear in those who still oppose the Dark Lord. Her severed head could serve as a very potent reminder of the Dark Lord's power."

Draco tried not to let himself flinch at the thought of Hermione's head, separated from her neck. He wouldn't…couldn't let her be hurt anymore. He, his family, had already hurt her physically, emotionally, mentally possibly beyond repair. Draco never thought, in a million years, that anything would make him care this deeply about Granger and he wanted to strike out at Lucius for even threatening to harm her. But he couldn't let his father see. Lucius must not know or even suspect any feelings from Draco. He forced his face to remain impassive.

"Later, you will go in to interrogate her, Draco. While you do, let it slip that her friends have betrayed her, deserted her, and left her to die. Make her feel completely abandoned. Torture her if you must. Do whatever you deem necessary, the Cruciatus, physical pain, to receive the information you require. Although, the notion she has been forsaken by those she loved most…that should loosen her lips." Lucius's wide malicious smile spread across his face and he rubbed his chin lightly.

"Not if I know Granger."

Wormtail snickered quietly, "And just how well DO you know the mudblood princess?"

Lucius struck Wormtail across the face, hard, "And just what are you insinuating about my son, you filthy rat?"

"Nothing, sir, I would never," Wormtail simpered, casting a quick, knowing look in Draco's direction.

"You, Wormtail, will be punished for your negligence," Lucius reached and snatched the cowering man's wand out of his hand and flicked it, causing Wormtail's limbs to snap together in the full body bind. "Mobilicorpus." With a further flick the bound body silently lifted and floated down the hallway, Lucius following.

Draco stood in the main entrance foyer, dumbfounded. What did Wormtail mean by his offhanded comment? Did he know? Had he seen…or heard? And how had Potter and the Weasel escaped?

"They all escaped."

Did that mean the other prisoners as well? Ollivander and Loony Lovegood? And that horrendous goblin? How had Potter managed to get out? The dim orange light of dawn slowly spread though the room, lighting the stained glass of the windows. An image of a dark green snake began to form across the floor. A small pop signified the arrival of Grafl beside him.

"Sir? The Lady Mother wishes Young Master to join her for breakfast please, sir," Grafl bowed till her fingertips reached the stone floor.

"Very well, tell mother I will come when I have dressed." With that, Draco turned and hastened to his room to wash and dress in clean clothes. When not at school, Draco much preferred to dress in simple slacks and collared shirts, despite his father's preference that he dress in proper robes at all times. As a boy, he very rarely ever blatantly disobeyed his father for fear of severe retribution. Approaching manhood, Draco found himself purposely finding small ways of misbehaving, whether it be wearing improper clothing, being kind to the house elf (which his father found distasteful), or falling for… falling in…finding himself in love. Draco's breath caught in his throat. Love?

"Is this what making love feels like?"

Beyond all sense, beyond all logical reason, Draco knew deep in his soul that his thoughts were true. Love. In his own emotionally stunted heart, Hermione belonged to him and only him. Despite everything he had ever done, or said, she was his in his mind. If things had not been how they were with the culture made by centuries of hate separating them…would they have somehow found each other? Instead of mortal enemies over seven years would they have become childhood friends and grow to tentative childhood sweethearts and maybe even lovers? Would they have been able to look at each other openly and without a sense of revulsion? Hermione was infuriating. Intelligent to annoyance, snide with comments, nosey to a fault. But all those things were her own quirkiness that while galling, also made his lips twitch with amusement, even while he enforced a strict policy of hatefulness to her. He wished he could tell her that for the past few years, all he wanted to do was admire her. Even if she didn't believe him, Draco wanted her to know. He wanted her to know he had grown to love her, in his own secret way.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Draco buttoned his shirt and walked sedately into the formal dining hall to find his mother and aunt in hushed urgent conversation. They broke off as he entered the room.

'My son, good morning." His mother proffered her hand and he went, as was custom, to kiss her cheek, noticing that the light bruise under her eye was still prominent despite the makeup she had applied. She squeezed his fingers in hers and looked at him for a moment, her eyes lingering on his as a light smile crossed her lips, "My handsome son." Draco smiled back at Narcissa, he truly did love his mother.

His aunt on the other hand… "Dwaco. Come give Auntie a kiss." Draco turned from his mother and stared at Bellatrix , biting the inside of his cheek.

"…Yes, Auntie Bella." He strode to her, bent to peck her on the cheek quickly, and sat down at his place next to his mother. Draco had never really enjoyed spending time with his aunt. The few times he had been forced to visit her in Azkaban, Bellatrix always stared at him with a crazed and slightly maniacal smile while asking him questions that seemed rather personal. It had made him extremely uncomfortable as a small child. Now finding herself out of prison, Aunt Bellatrix seemed to think he admired her very much and thought of Draco as her precious little protégé. Frankly, Draco would rather be eaten by a dragon than spend time with her.

"That's my good boy." She patted his chin and grinned, showing her blackened, damaged teeth. The time in Azkaban had not been good to her. In pictures Draco had seen of his mother and her two sisters when they were younger, his aunt had been, well, rather striking in her own right with long curly dark hair setting off her iridescent skin. The black eyes glittered under prominent eyelids rimmed with thick lashes. The disturbing thing about the young girl, was the hateful smile firmly plastered on her face. Certainly biased, but sure of himself, Draco found Narcissa to be the obvious beauty of the sisters. She had straight white blonde hair with a light mischievous smile that few ever saw, save for her son. Draco certainly took after his father, but the resemblance to his mother was as strong and he preferred to think of himself as her child…not Lucius's. His mother's smile reminded him of…damn. He HAD to stop.

"We shan't wait for your father," Draco felt his attention snap back to the women around him as his mother's soft voice permeated his thoughts, "He is dealing with more pressing matters at the moment. Tea, Dear?" Draco nodded and his mother handed him a cup with a smile, "Two sugars, and no cream. I know how you like it."

"Speaking of pressing matters…Cissy, dear…a little birdie told me the Potter brat escaped and took all his little friends with him. Is this true?" A delighted smug little smile crossed Bella's lips before she moved her tea cup in form to hide it.

Narcissa's mouth pressed in a thin, infuriated line, "Yes. You heard the truth. Who said…"

"Greyback." Bellatrix interrupted. "Seems your husband and he got into quite the heated little quarrel this morning. Greyback blames him for releasing his hard earned prize." A soft giggle escaped her lips, "Lucius sent him back out to the place they found Potter to look for clues. Fenrir is not a happy little wolfie. Nearly bit a hand off. The snarling was terrible…said he's expecting a much larger bit of the mudblood once we are done with her. I figure he can have the whole thing as long as he cleans up after himself." Bellatrix's eyes flashed spitefully. "Although he will have to wait. Since we still have the filthy little muggle born alive, we may as well use her to our best advantage. Perhaps I should pay her a little visit in her little cell this afternoon. I do so want to get to know her better. And after all, what is a bit of spilled mudblood? Just some more grime."

"NO!"

Draco's vehement protest brought a flicker of surprise to his aunt's face, "She is not yours to question. She was given to me."

An upraised eyebrow accused intention, "Really, Draco, I just thought you could use a little help." Bella toyed with her dark wand.

"You are not needed. After all, Aunt Bella, how will I get better," Draco gave what he hoped was a look of excitement, "if you don't let me practice?"

A slow satisfied grin spread across Bellatrix's lips, "That is true, my little nephew. Very true. And who better for you to practice on, hmmm? Harry Potter's own little lap bitch. Oh, how he will suffer knowing what you have done. Very well, Draco, I know you will make you auntie vewy pwoud!"

Cringing at the baby talk, Draco forced a convincingly determined face and nodded. The rest of breakfast concluded in relative silence, light conversation between Narcissa and Bellatrix flitting about his head while he neither contributed nor paid attention. His brain was too concerned with distressing thoughts of his own to bother with their petty concerns.


	6. Chapter 6

Hours later Narcissa summoned the house elf to her side. She, Bellatrix, Lucius and Draco had been taking tea in the sitting room.

"Grafl. Perhaps you should go offer some scraps to our guest in the cellar. Find her something quickly and return to me. I have chores for you." With a wave of her manicured hand, Narcissa shooed the elf away and turned back to her sister, "You were saying, dear?"

Draco stood up and collected his used tea things, "I am going with Grafl. Perhaps the best time to collect information is when the promise of food is in the offering."

Bellatrix clapped her hands like a schoolchild, "Wonderful idea, Draco! Are you sure you don't want any assistance? I would be glad to accompany…"

"Thank you, but no," Draco quickly interjected, "I intend to concentrate intently on the task at hand, so I would prefer not to be disturbed."

Lucius nodded, "Very well, son. Your mother and I have business to attend to away from the manor. There are pressing issues involving the escape we must discuss. I hope we can manage to provide some sort of damage control to the situation. We shall be gone till late in the evening. You pry what you can from the girl. With you in charge, I expect results." His stern tone matched his icy stare. "Narcissa. Bellatrix and I shall go ahead. Join us when you have finished with the elf." He and Bellatrix both stood, spun on the spot, and disapparated with matching pops.

A third snap signaled Grafl joining them in the sitting room, holding a small tray upon which was perched a pitcher of water and a goblet, a scrap of bread, and a bowl of thin broth.

"That will do, Grafl. Draco will accompany you. When you are done beat the rugs, clean the kitchen, and do the crystal and the silver. We will be dining with my sister this evening, so make dinner for Draco and then tend to the greenhouse. The belladonna and nightshade are both looking over grown and I think my moonwort is ready for harvesting. Do not," Narcissa smiled gently downward, "and I repeat, Do Not, puncture any of those pods. I need them whole." Despite her imposing character, Narcissa behaved compassionately towards her elf when she was alone or with her son. She might seem cold to those who did not know her, but Draco understood that this was a carefully well calculated act that fooled even his father.

"Draco, Darling? Good luck, my son." She ruffled his hair gently and patted his cheek, then disapparated.

"Master…Master Draco will go with Grafl to see the prisoner?" Grafl's wide blue eyes stared at the floor.

"No, Grafl." Draco said kindly as he took the tray form her, "You go attend to the other chores, I will go to…the…the prisoner. Please do not come down to the cellar. I will come up when I am hungry."

Draco turned away from Grafl and began to make his way to Granger's cell, walking slowly down to the cellar so as not to spill everything. He unlocked the door with a flick of his wand and watched as the torches cascaded light into the room. Granger lay limply on the table looking worse for the wear.

"Granger, are you awake?" Draco drew up a table and chair from midair with his wand and placed them near Granger's head.

"Malfoy."

"How are you feeling?" He set the tray on the table and moved so he was looking over her.

"What?" A flummoxed look clouded Hermione's face.

"I asked how you were feeling," Draco said as he rolled his eyes.

"I heard you the first time." Her voice was dry and gravelly, yet still held a tone of skepticism, "I just never expected pleasantries."

"Granger," Draco could feel his nostrils flaring, "Shut it. Forget I asked." He turned his body to pour water in the goblet.

"I hurt." The damning words pierced his ears as though they had been shouted. Draco gripped the goblet hard and swallowed. She had said it so softly she couldn't have expected him to hear. He would pretend he hadn't. He didn't want to. He knew he was the cause of part of her pain, a part she surely felt but had no idea of.

"I brought you food."

"I'm not hungry. Just please go away." The manacles clinked lightly on the table, sounding dull and heavy.

"You have to eat or you'll starve."

Hermione sighed, "Really? Is that how it works? Hmm….what a pity." Her head turned to nestle her arm, facing away from Draco. He watched her chew her bottom lip in thought.

"Come on, Granger. Look. There are some things I need to ask you and well, here, I can feed you and then we can talk." Feeling slightly helpless, Draco plopped indelicately in the chair and picked up the spoon from the tray.

Hermione's head snapped Draco's way and her eyes narrowed in anger, "How _bloody_ kind. Do you honestly think I would tell you anything? How thick are you?" She hissed, jerking her body involuntarily in her frustration. "OW!" The abrupt howl issued from her lips followed by a sharp gasp of pain.

'What? What the hell!" Draco panicked and jumped from his chair, allowing the spoon to fall from his fingers and clatter on the floor. He edged toward the table as she started to cry, great racking sobs causing a small flood of tears.

"It…h…hu…hurttsssss….."

"Jeeze, Granger!" Draco ran his fingers quickly over his face, then reached for his wand and tapped the manacles holding her prisoner. As they sprung open, he could see the damage they had already done. Hermione's wrists were bruised, raw, and bloody. The right looked painfully crooked at a rather odd angle, as though perhaps pulled a little too hard and sprained or broken. "Get up and walk around a bit, you're probably just sore."

Draco put his wand away, lifted Hermione to a sitting position, and gently pulled her to her to her feet. When he let go, she stood shakily for a moment, then plummeted, catching herself on her left wrist, just as her face hit the cold stone floor. She continued to weep, laying face down in the dust and scrunched into a tiny ball.

"I want R...Ronnnn an…an…and..Ha…Harryyyy!" The statement, barely audible between the sobs cut right through Draco. He could feel his mouth twitch and his eyes sting. Oh, she wanted Potty and the Weasel to save her, did she?

"They've gone. They left early this morning. Quickly, very quickly in fact. I think they must not have cared to find you. You are in the same cellar, after all. You would think they would have at least spent a minute to look." He spoke with a tone of nonchalance, though inwardly he seethed.

"No." Her stricken face lifted slightly, "They wouldn't…just…just go."

"Well," Draco sniffed kneeling down in front of her, "Perhaps they were just too busy getting all the others out to think of you. Perhaps they thought you could handle escaping without them. Perhaps you aren't as important to them as you dreamed."

Hermione struggled to push herself up one-handed, her split lip trembling madly. Sitting on her knees with her head lowered to her chest, she mumbled, "It's probably easier this way."

Draco reached out a hand to set on her cheek, thought better of it, and snatched it back to his side. "Why don't you stop playing the tragic little heroine for a bit, get up on the table, and eat something?"

A slender hand reached up to press shaking fingers to her mouth, "I told you I wasn't hungry."

"Fine." Draco stood and made to reach for his wand.

"I've never felt so weak and violated…"

Hermione's tiny voice clenched at his heart, striking a tender nerve.

"…it's like my heart has been raped. And everything has been taken from me."

At those words an angry and shameful dam broke in his soul, "SHUT UP, GRANGER! It's YOU that has made you feel weak, no one else. If you want any chance of surviving this situation you have stupidly gotten yourself in, you will shut your damn mouth, quit feeling so damn sorry for yourself, and listen to me."

Draco bent and pulled Hermione up, scooping her gently in his arms. Upon hearing her surprised intake of air, Draco had to shut his eyes quickly so as not to plant a kiss on her shocked mouth. He deposited her on the table and dropping into his chair, he stared intently at her. The left arm cradled the right as she turned away so that she would not look at him.

"Hermione. I can help you. I can keep you safe, but dammnit, you have to stay alive long enough to let me! I need information to keep you alive day to day, information only you can provide to save yourself. At this point the only way you can do that is to stop regarding this cell as your finality and eat. I must leave you for the moment. I will be back down in one hour and I expect you to be ready to talk." As Draco spoke, his hand slid from the chair to the table, from the table to the side of her thigh. He gripped it lightly, feeling it tense and then relax slightly.

Hermione furrowed her brow obviously perplexed and a bit suspicious, "Why? Why do you even care if another mudblood lives or dies?"

Draco removed the hand from her thigh and ran the fingers carelessly though his hair. "Because," he murmured softly, "because maybe I'm just tired of all of this. I'm sick of never knowing if I'll be alive or dead the next day and whether or not I would be better off. And…well, maybe I owe you, Granger."

He stood, walked swiftly to the door, and fumbled at the latch.

"I don't underst…"

Draco did not stay to hear the rest of the statement; he just slipped through the doorway, whispering, "Because I need you to forgive me." The latch locked tightly behind him.


End file.
